Ashes to Ashes We all fall Down
by I.Spin.The.Carousel
Summary: Darlene runs away from her violent boyfriend and is suddenly immersed into the alternate reality of Silent Hill. The world of blood and rust. Will the little courage she has pull her through, or her past fears consume her?


**Hello. My name is Sandra, and although I have written many fanfics in the past, this is the first one I've worked on, on this site. There will be many characters and concepts that I have culivated into this story, but as for the world of Silent Hill itself, that, obviously, I do not own. Constructive critism is always helpful: The story is rated M for intense violence, for it's horror and macabre, strong language, strong sexual content, and drug use. It pretty much has it all, but I'm not the type of writer who likes to jump straight to the smut and rut. This story is for real and I present it to you with pride! nerd cry **

**EDIT: I edited small bits and pieces. Please let me know if ever you catch a typo. **

* * *

I live in a world made up of ugly. You can watch me revolt away from one angle, to the next, and to the next…and to the next. Until I've done a 360 degree circle around myself, and don't know what to do anymore. It's the space between me and the mirror, and how much I dare to get closer. To examine every repulsive detail and to leave, shrinking from the world made up of ugly, feeling exposed to every shameful attacking fiber within. The nice things people tell you don't matter, unless you think nice things of them or care about what they think to begin with. It's a shame that their veracity sells for so little until the moment they say something awful. Because whatever negative thing they might say, whether from a backstabbing friend or a stranger, it's never anything new to you. You've been telling yourself that all the time. It's a fleeting thought riddling with anger, a thought that you understand and believed in for what seemed like forever.

…It started with his cat. Oh, how I absolutely hated that cat. He took care of that fuzzy fuck more than he took care of me. The cat ate better food then I did, for God's sake! My boyfriend of seven months would come back home from work and say hi to the cat before he so much even looked at me, and of course before looking at me, he turned on the television to watch football. The cat and television came before me when it came to the only man I ever loved and hated. He cuddled with it more than he slept with me. At first I thought he had problems, now I'm sitting here and looking at myself in the mirror and realize that it's all me.

I was the one who had to take care of it though while he was away. It was stupid, fat and shitted on the carpet all the time. It scratched me every time I had to pick up its fat ass to the food bowl, and bit me on more than several occasions. It clawed me in the face pretty good as well when I had to give it a shower.

One day I was running a fever of over a hundred and had vomited twice throughout the night. My boyfriend didn't bother asking me if I was okay. Instead he told me to go sleep in the ice cold living room. It was loud too, we lived in an apartment and the people downstairs partied at every chance they could. I couldn't sleep at all, and morning wasn't any better. My boyfriend had got up to get ready for work, he yelled at me for not preparing his breakfast. I told him repeatedly that I was sick and it was hard to stand. He said the foulest things for having to prepare his own cereal.

"LOOK!" He yelled, and pointed at the cat bowl, "It's fucking empty! Jesus, you are worthless."

The yelling made me sicker, I knew I had better run to the bathroom then or else I was going to vomit on the carpet. Much worse than cat shit.

I got up and was ready to run, but he blocked my path. I remembered being so nervous out of love when I was this close to him. Now I was scared out of my mind, out of absolute fear. I know, I stayed thinking it was a phase of any relationship, I thought if I was faithful enough, he'd change back to how he used to be. Sweet and loving, so much so that I could tolerate fifty cats if I had too.

"What Darlene?" He said threateningly, "You wanna run away from me? Huh?"

"No, I gotta--" And it was all over him in a matter of seconds. I was never able to eat as much as a person should, so it was all stomach acid…and it was all over his brand new shoes that he worked so hard to pay for.

The next thing I knew I was sprawled out on the floor in my own vomit. A flash of bloodcurdling red before my eyes and his screams of hate were deafening. He hit me on the back, again…again…and grabbed a fistful of my hair and bashed my face into the vomit and told me to eat it. Him doing that just made me throw up once again. The smell was nauseating and I was inches from blacking out. This was what I wanted more than anything; to fade away from reality into utter darkness. I wished for more than anything to disconnect from his hatred. I never knew about his violence until several weeks of dating. The first time we had sex was the first time he hit me. I was trapped, I had given up my virginity to a man I loved, was I going to leave him now? No. People change, I reassured myself, just show him you believe in him, and he will come to realization that what he did was wrong. Plus, he loves me, he will change.

I had never screamed so loud, he literally ripped out a chunk of my hair, and I could feel warm blood on the back of my head, I could feel it's nakedness there. You know, he used to love my hair. He said it was what he loved most about my physical appearance. This is the price you pay for putting every inch of you into another.

The fucking price you pay.

He left me, sick, alone and half dying on the carpet for half an hour, as he showered and went to work. He told me that he would kill me if I so much thought of getting up before he was gone. I was up as soon as he was out the door. And that's when I stood in the bathroom, wondering what the hell is wrong with me and why I couldn't be stronger to make the right choices and stand up for who I was and what I believed in. It was frightening, my reflection. Because that wasn't me…it was a monster.

I showered, vomited, and brushed my teeth until I nearly scraped them paper thin. I went back out into the living room to mop up the vomit and soak it in carpet cleaner. But the cat was there, licking at my vomit.

"No…don't do that." I said as I bent to pick it up. It screeched and twisted in my arms and scratched my left cheek. I screamed murder, and within seconds there was a loud crash and the sound of static electricity.

I stared at the scene in absolute awe, the cat with its broken neck, limply hanging from the shattered screen of the television. The room started to smoke and smell of burnt hair. The blood pitter pattered softly onto the floor.

I had destroyed his two most favorite things within a single moment.

There are moments in life when you feel like you are watching yourself from the outside. The moments that matter are the ones that wake you back to reality…like this moment. And then you feel your heart break. There is nothing you can do.

The cats name was Dexter.

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I left the house looking like an absolute mess. I didn't bother cleaning up the mess in the living room either. I decided to go walk to the closest drug store and pick up some Tylonel. When I went inside I felt instant relief. It was so wonderful to be any other building but my own house. I went up to the cash register and handed the box of pills to the cashier. She looked really young, and very…well, obvious. She surveyed me closely and said something that made the world crash around my ears, "You look like I did when I got pregnant." My jaw dropped. It didn't occur to me for a second…no… 

"I – I uh…hold on one second…" I stammered, but she stopped me with a look.

"Look, I know how it is. Here." She threw a Pregnancy Tester at me.

I paid for both, and was about to leave the store when I heard her snicker to her co-worker, "Did you see her face?" They both laughed in unison.

There was a motel nearby, I went into the lounge and before I even had a chance to speak. The lady at the desk exclaimed, "We're all booked for the night."

"I—uh, I just wanted to use your bathrooms…that's all."

I stumbled back out after half an hour; feeling half blind and half dumb. The lady at the desk must have thought I was doing drugs in the stalls.

I'm pregnant.

Before I was about to leave, a man, looking very angry briskly walked up to the lady at the desk and shouted, "The room you offered me is disgusting. It stinks, and smells of mold." He threw his hotel keys at her and checked out and left.

I practically flew to the desk, "Please, I need that room." I told her.

"50 bucks a night, missy." She said in her annoying voice.

"Look, m'am, that man said the room reeks and is repulsive, I've only got 35 dollars on me…please…it's all I have." I begged.

She was silent for a moment, and then…a stroke of luck, "Alright." She handed me the keys that the man had thrown at her earlier.

I gladly gave her the 35 bucks and ran to sanctuary.

The room _did_ reek. I had nothing to eat, so I spent the hours lying back on my bed and massaging my nervous stomach. I was carrying a child and I did not have a clue as to how I was going to take care of it. The news, I suppose hadn't sunk it just yet, but it still hit me pretty hard. I wanted a child eventually, but not now. Not with him.

_You should have left him a LONG time ago…_

I really, really should have…

I thought about my boyfriend, he would be home by now. I wonder what he's thinking, or what must have passed through his head as he walked into that awful scene. The broken television, the dead cat, and the vomit that had been sitting there for hours.

I pushed it away from me and flipped on the television…it was breaking news. I couldn't believe it…

To make a long story short…my apartment is completely burned out because of the broken television and dangerous wires that somehow made the building catch on fire. Three people are dead, and many were injured, and here I am in my stinky motel room feeling everything and nothing at all.

This is too much to take in for one day.

The news abruptly ended and went into screaming static.

"What the hell?" I furiously tried to turn off the television from my remote. But it continued to scream. The sound was like nothing I heard before, it was spine-chilling.

I jumped up from the bed and ran to turn it off, thinking that the batteries in the remote were dead. Again, it didn't turn off. I started to cry and pulled the cord out from the outlet. Still, it screamed. It seemed the more I tried to persist, the louder the sound grew. Suddenly, the screen burst and cracked, and the sound slowly died. My heart rate was at the max and my knuckles were solid white from clenching my fists so tightly. There was a sound that petrified me to no end, a sound so unnatural of rattling bones.

I looked over at the busted screen, cautiously,..screaming at the top of my lungs and paralyzed from ultimate fear and utter confusion.

It was Dexter, crawling out of the T.V. box, it's neck twisted and eyes staring intently into my face without a sign of life, it's legs twitching in the most absurd way...and they were twitiching towards me.


End file.
